


Ryan of Green Gables

by skoosiepants



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic At The Disco, The Academy Is...
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-22
Updated: 2007-05-22
Packaged: 2017-11-11 20:45:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skoosiepants/pseuds/skoosiepants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not!fic: When Gerard and Mikey Way first lay eyes on Ryan, Ryan knows he isn't what they were expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ryan of Green Gables

**Author's Note:**

> This is seriously the most melodramatic thing I have ever written in my entire life, and I am VERY ATTACHED TO IT. Does this even really resemble AoGG at all? I'm skipping many years and mixing everything up, but, hey, if you like LOVE and TEARS and Ryan being honestly so adorable I could squish him, you might not hate me for ALMOST BREAKING RYAN'S EMO HEART! This is not a fic, not really. Enjoy.

When Gerard and Mikey Way first lay eyes on Ryan, Ryan knows he isn’t what they were expecting.  
  
“You’ll have to go back,” Mikey says with a frown, but Gerard just smiles and says, “We’ll work something out, okay?” and pulls him into a hug.  
  
Then he says, “Welcome,” and, “Don’t mind Mikey.”  
  
Mikey slides his hands into his pockets and tips his head back, eyeing Ryan up and down. “Ever milk a cow?”  
  
Ryan eyes Mikey up and down right back. “Have you?” he asks, because Mikey looks like he’s never worked a day in his life, immaculate coat tailored tight along his slim build.  
  
Gerard laughs and claps Ryan’s shoulder. Gerard has a friendly face and big, pretty eyes and his hand, when he slips it into Ryan’s, is calloused and warm. “You’ll do fine,” he says, tugging him along as he starts down the train platform. “Come on. Wagon’s waiting.”  
  
*  
  
Ryan has never been off of the orphanage grounds where he grew up, and he’s never had a room of his own before.  
  
There are tiny, faded flowers on the bedspread, pink and lavender sprigs tied with blue ribbon. There is blue molding along the garret ceiling, the walls a yellow cream, and there’s a tree just outside the window, huge and thick-limbed and perfect, _just perfect_ for climbing.  
  
Ryan sits on the narrow bed and clutches his bag on his lap and prays they let him stay forever.  
  
*  
  
Patrick and Pete live across the fields. The Way brothers’ cow always gets out and wanders into Patrick's vegetable patch, and then Ryan and Pete scratch their heads and talk about all the ways they could get her out without actually getting her out. Patrick yells a lot, but Pete tells Ryan not to worry about it, he’s all bark.  
  
Pete laughs while Patrick turns nearly purple and then he gathers him up in a spine-cracking hug and Ryan averts his eyes with a smile. He hears Patrick sputter, then sigh, and then Ryan glances over, under his lashes, and Patrick is sort of slumped into Pete, almost resigned but mostly just bewilderingly pleased.  
  
They leave the cow. Later, Gerard comes over and lures her out with a bucket of oats.  
  
*  
  
Ryan has been living with the Way brothers for about two weeks when he meets Spencer at a garden party. He’s better dressed than Ryan and sort of looks snobby until he smiles. He smiles and his whole face is beautiful and Ryan immediately knows they’re kindred spirits and meant to be best friends until the end of time.  
  
Spencer just arches an eyebrow when Ryan informs him of this, but he doesn’t dispute it. He lets Ryan hook their arms together and drag him around the lawn and then Spencer says, “Wait, c’mere,” and pulls him down towards the little babbling brook at the edge of the grounds.  
  
There are _boys_ there. Not slim, neat boys like Ryan and Spencer, but dirty, mucky boys splashing in the shallows and Spencer waves and says, “Hi, Jon,” and a hint of red tops Spencer’s cheeks.  
  
Ryan is horrified.  
  
One of the boys – Jon, presumably – swipes his palms on his pants and grins and rocks back on his heels and says, “Hi, Spence,” with a very slight lisp. He’s so _provincial_ , and Ryan can’t understand why Spencer is staring at him in that embarrassingly besotted way.  
  
Another boy clambers up the slope and drapes himself across Jon’s back and shoulders. He’s dressed marginally better, but he’s just as dirty and he’s got ridiculous specs on the end of his nose and he grins at them. It’s a sly grin, and it rubs Ryan completely wrong. Ryan straightens up and looks as far down at him as he can. He’s taller, and on higher ground, so it works remarkably well.  
  
Or it would have worked, if the boy hadn’t been so irksome. He smiles even wider and says, “Hello, you’re new,” and Jon jerks his gaze off Spencer – _really_ now – and seems to see Ryan for the first time, and he’s so friendly looking that Ryan really can’t be rude, no matter how much he wants to be. He shakes the hand Jon offers, but tries his level best to ignore the other boy entirely.  
  
The other boy says, “I’m Brendon,” though, and bounces into Ryan’s space without any hesitation.  
  
Ryan stumbles backwards and almost falls, except Brendon catches his wrist just in time.  
  
“You’ve got lovely eyes,” Brendon says, then laughs, ruffles Ryan’s hair – Ryan ducks away from the touch, but it doesn’t do much good – and then he takes off, calling over his shoulder, “Come on, Jon,” and, “Stop mooning over Spencer,” and, “See you later, Ryan Ross,” even though Ryan never remembers giving him his name.  
  
Ryan decides, just as readily as he’s decided that Spencer is his bosom friend, that he hates Brendon very, very much.  
  
*  
  
Ryan is a lot of trouble, Mikey thinks. They have to have one of the Urie boys come over and milk the cow – which can’t last, since the Urie boys have their own chores, as Mrs. Urie always makes a point to stress - since Ryan has yet to even touch her, and Mikey suspects he’s even a little afraid of the beast.  
  
Mikey is not much better, but that’s what they supposedly have Ryan _for_ , since neither Gerard nor he has any experience with farms and farming. They inherited this one from their grandmother, and Gerard was ridiculously enthused about keeping it going and now they’re just two men and a boy living on a piece of land that’s hardly turning any profit at all.  
  
Gerard says he’ll supplement their income with freelance advertising drawings or whatever, but still. It’s the principle of the thing.  
  
Ryan doesn’t seem to get along with the Urie boys or Andy, either, their closest neighbors besides Patrick and Pete. Well, the Urie boys tease him, particularly Brendon, the scamp, and Mikey thinks Andy’s simply got it in his head somehow that Ryan’s up-to-no-good, which is silly. Ryan’s flaky and prissy and writes in his little journal for hours on end, but he’s not _up-to-no-good_. Mikey will say that for him.  
  
“He’s good for us,” Gerard says and grins at him.  
  
“He daydreams,” Mikey counters. They’re on the front porch, and Ryan is just down by the road, picking at the long-stemmed dandelions, body tall and slight against the dying light.  
  
“And you don’t?” Gerard laughs.  
  
“Yes, but.” Mikey throws up his hands. “It’s on you, then,” he says, and then his mouth twitches. “I suppose between the three of us we can figure out how to milk the damn cow.”

 

****

  
Ryan is Spencer’s very best friend, but Spencer doesn’t always understand him. Spencer pushes at the little rowboat with his foot.  
  
“Doesn’t seem all that sturdy,” he says, because Spencer is rather sensible, and Ryan flips through a slim little book – Ryan has a lot of books. Spencer thinks this is endearing – and shoots Spencer a pointed look.  
  
William has one of his mama’s shawls draped over his arm. “I don’t think it is,” William whispers to Spencer conspiratorially, grinning. William likes trouble. Spencer isn’t sure why they’re friends, except William is occasionally great fun.  
  
Ryan clears his throat and glares at them and William giggles before schooling his face into a properly somber expression.  
  
Ryan reads – _“And at the closing of the day She loosed the chain, and down she lay; The broad stream bore her far away, The Lady of Shalott”_ – overdramatically, with a lovely cast of sorrow curving his mouth, and he climbs into the boat carefully, lying down with his arms folded, and William fusses over the ‘shroud’ and the day lilies until Ryan slaps his hands away in irritation.  
  
And then Spencer and William push off the bank and Ryan and the little boat rock unsteadily out into the river and it’s, well. Spencer concedes it’s all very beautiful and poetic - which Ryan is, more than Spencer, and Spencer honestly does appreciate that quality in him, at least when it doesn’t involve Ryan looking down his nose at Jon, even though Jon never seems to mind very much.  
  
And then William says, “look— _oh_ ,” and claps a hand over his mouth, eyes dancing merrily, and Spencer narrows his gaze at the boat as it slides into faster currents.  
  
Ryan squawks, actually _squawks_ , and jerks upright and he’s _splashing_ , because the boat is taking on water at a rapid pace. Not very sturdy at all.  
  
“Oh no,” Spencer mutters. He wishes Jon were there. Spencer doesn’t really want to get wet. He sighs heavily and is thinking about the best way to approach Ryan’s rescue, but then Brendon is there, on the far side of the river, hands on his hips, wide grin on his face - though, to his credit, he isn’t quite laughing. The water is rather dangerous in the middle, after all, and Ryan isn’t the strongest swimmer.  
  
Spencer thinks it’s sort of romantic. Or he thinks Ryan should think it’s romantic – because Spencer isn’t all that fanciful himself - when Brendon slips over the edge of the bridge to grab Ryan as he floats by, hands grasping desperately at a slick pylon. Ryan just seems disgruntled, soaked, pouting, as Brendon pulls him up on dry land.  
  
Spencer’s actually sort of puzzled by Ryan’s entire dislike of Brendon, always has been, but he’d never say a word out loud. It’s best, Spencer has found, to let Ryan do exactly as he wants.  
  
William leans into Spencer’s side – and he’s tall, so he’s sort of folded over him, long arms dangling around his shoulders – and laughs into the back of Spencer’s neck. William thinks Ryan and Brendon are going to marry one day, and he thinks it’s the funniest thing ever when they fight. Ryan once broke a _slate_ over Brendon’s head, and, okay, Spencer thought that was funny, too. Brendon’s stunned face had been _hilarious_ , and Jon had winked at Spencer and that was always good.  
  
Spencer can’t hear what they’re saying, but Ryan is stamping his foot and has his arms crossed and he looks like a drowned puppy and Brendon has a smile on his mouth that even Spencer thinks is infuriating. William just laughs harder.  
  
*  
  
Ryan is excited about the dance for exactly three days, until he realizes he has absolutely nothing to wear. Shiny clasps are all the rage, and Spencer’s even gotten a new jacket – silver clasps and double-breasted, too! – and all Ryan has is his serviceable Sunday wear, with a nice clean cut – as Mikey always tells him, since Mikey’s really very good with fashion – but! Shiny buttons! He can’t be seen without them! Simply _everyone_ is going to be wearing them, and he’ll be mortified beyond measure if he shows up in anything else.  
  
Mikey frowns at his plea. There isn’t enough money to be spending it on frivolous expenses. Ryan doesn’t need another coat. Mikey himself would kill for a shiny clasped outfit, but you don’t see him pouting about it, do you?  
  
Gerard laughs at them – Gerard laughs at a lot, and it’s one of the things Mikey loves best about him – and then shows up the day before the dance with two similar shaped boxes, and Mikey should really make him take them back, but he’s gotten one for _him_ , too, and Gerard is really the best brother in the whole entire _world_.  
  
So the three of them troop off to the dance, two replete with shiny buttons - Ryan's even has adorable rosettes fastened at the collar - and one, Gerard, in his serviceable Sunday dress – “Who do I need to impress?” he’d asked, bewildered, when Ryan had wondered why he hadn’t gotten one for himself as well – and Mikey is almost as excited about it as Ryan.  
  
Pete is making a fool out of himself on the dance floor, but that’s nothing unusual. Patrick is standing off to the side with a hand over half his face, bright red, but he laughs whenever Pete waves at him.  
  
Spencer is hiding behind William, because Jon looks _so handsome_ and Spencer has never been shy, but he’s suddenly awkward and flushed and William is probably the last person he should have chosen to hide behind – and not just because he’s so thin he’s not much of a barrier, really, but because William just smiles delightedly and says, “Hey, Jon, Spencer’s over here,” hooking a thumb over his shoulder. Honestly, they _shouldn’t_ be friends, Spencer’s sure of it.  
  
Ryan is busy snubbing Brendon. Brendon is very hard to snub, however, and steals Ryan’s dance card and fills every single line with his name, and Ryan is _so angry_ , except he can’t make a scene. Mikey would _strangle_ him, and Gerard thinks Brendon’s such a nice boy, and he can’t see why Ryan hates him so.  
  
Brendon is annoying and pushy and Ryan sometimes gets exhausted just looking at him – he’s got so much energy! - and he’s always standing too close to Ryan and he always looks like he’s either just done something horrible or is on his way to doing something horrible, and Ryan just. Doesn’t like him. He doesn’t have to have a valid reason for that. It’s just how it is and how it will always be, no matter what William’s always giggling about.  
  
Gerard is content to stand alongside the punch like the other proud parents and let the kids have some fun. He smiles as Jon bows over Spencer’s hand and Spencer fidgets with his shiny buttons until William not-so-surreptitiously shoves him in the small of his back. He lets out a low chuckle as Brendon almost resorts to bodily hauling Ryan out onto the dance floor - since Ryan is as stubborn a boy as Gerard has ever come across – before Ryan huffs out a breath and stomps out into the middle of the room, glaring daggers at Brendon until the boy hastily takes up his hands and spins them into a dance before Ryan can change his mind.  
  
“Having fun?”  
  
Gerard glances to his side and breaks out into a grin. “Frank,” he says, and wraps an arm around him, pulling him into a brisk hug. Frank has the daunting task of teaching all the towns-children manners and times tables and proper sentence structure. Gerard doesn’t envy him, but Frank is possibly his very favorite person besides his brother.  
  
Frank tells Gerard about the baffling but amusing feud between Ryan and Brendon, and how William stays after class every other day to profess his undying love for Frank, and Frank keeps threatening to marry him one day, with a playful smile, because William knows and Frank knows and pretty much everyone in town knows the Frank is going to marry Gerard. Gerard is, in fact, the only one who doesn’t know that plan. This is not for lack of trying on Frank’s part. Gerard is just that oblivious.  
  
Frank says, “Okay, so, you’re not spending the whole night hiding out over here, right? Because I kinda think we should dance. At least once.”  
  
Gerard arches an eyebrow at him. “Only once?”  
  
“At _least_ once. With an option for more.” Frank grins at him winningly. It’s more cheeky than anything else, though, and Gerard, in complete disregard of any social mores, presses a kiss to Frank’s temple and says, “Let’s go.”  
  
*  
  
Mikey is not sure at all what to think about Frank and Gerard. He dislikes change. He thinks adopting Ryan was change enough for the _century_ , and Gerard leaving them is not an option.  
  
In just a few short years Ryan will be away at college – he won’t delude himself into thinking Ryan won’t go, because Ryan is smart and needs more than just this poorly-farmed plot of land to live on – and Mikey and Gerard will be alone again, or _Mikey_ will be alone again, and that’s just tragic. Mikey is not a big fan of tragedies. Ryan is, but Ryan’s a little fanciful, and a little touched in the head.  
  
“What are you pouting about,” Gerard says, ruffling Mikey’s hair.  
  
Mikey ducks and scowls at him and says, “Love.”  
  
“Oh. Oh, love’s a terrible thing, I agree.” Gerard is grinning at him, eyes crinkled up at the edges. Gerard is teasing him, Mikey can tell.  
  
Mikey doesn’t say that he loves him, and that he loves Ryan – who can’t love Ryan? – and that he doesn’t know what he’ll do when either or both of them are gone. He just says, “ _Love_ ,” again, like a swear, lips pursed, and Gerard just hugs him to his chest.  
  
Mikey’s forehead drops down onto his shoulder.  
  
“Ryan,” Gerard says, slowly, thoughtfully, hands gripping the back of Mikey’s shirt, “is good for us,” and he’s said that before, but right then, right that moment, Mikey thinks he finally understands what he means.  
  
They were honestly going to have to get rid of the cow, though.

 

****

  
Spencer can’t stop hiccupping, and it’s making him _laugh_ , and Ryan is just incredibly red-faced and hot and he thinks this might have been a bad idea. Plus, Mikey’s going to be so mad that they drank all his cordial.  
  
Ryan pulls at his collar and slumps down on the bed.  
  
Spencer slips off the side and lands on his back. “Ow,” he says, then giggles a little, and then goes, “Shhh, shhhh, okay, I’m.” He flaps a hand. “I’m.”  
  
“Spencer.” Ryan rolls over and reaches a hand down to him. “Spencer, Spencer, this.” Oh man. How is Spencer gonna get home? Ryan’s starting to feel a little sick to his stomach, and it was a really horrible idea, honest, he knows that now and this will never, ever happen again, except somehow he’s got to explain this to Mikey and sneak Spencer home and it’s not going to end well. He’s in enough of his right mind to sense that.  
  
It doesn’t, of course, he’s completely correct. Mikey has to explain to Mr. and Mrs. Smith that Spencer was _tipsy_ , and slightly green with nausea, and Mr. and Mrs. Smith place the blame solely on Ryan. Which is unfair, truly, and Mikey stares down Mr. Smith and tells him off as politely as possible, and then he refuses to speak to Ryan for _days_. Days upon days.  
  
Ryan, folded up on the porch swing, sniffles into his knees. Gerard settles down next to him and slides an arm around his shoulders. His expression is understanding, but he hasn’t tried to talk Mikey out of his snit. Mikey is perfectly justified in being upset, and Gerard knows it’ll pass sooner than later. He knows his brother.  
  
That Spencer has been ordered never to associate with Ryan again leaves a gaping wound in Ryan’s heart. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to go on, for Spencer is the other half of his soul, a brother in every way but blood, closer than kin, even, and Ryan is _wasting away_ without his constant presence.  
  
Gerard presses his cheek onto the top of Ryan’s head. He doesn’t have any words for him. Ryan has words for everything, and Gerard’s content enough to let him talk.  
  
“It isn’t fair,” he says, and it isn’t.  
  
“I’ll be so _lonely_ without him, Gerard. I don’t think I can live,” he says, and Gerard smiles a little, careful not to let Ryan notice.  
  
Sometime between, “Maybe we can run away together,” and, “Oh, I bet the open road is _dangerous_ ,” – said with the slightest bit of perverse delight, since for Ryan, danger is often equated with romance – Mikey slips out onto the porch to stand, arms crossed, leaning against the railing.  
  
“You’re being stupid,” he says, cutting Ryan off mid-story, an imaginary adventure rife with handsome highwaymen that’s mainly left Gerard baffled but amused.  
  
Ryan lifts wide eyes to his.  
  
Mikey taps his pipe in his palm, glances up at the sky. “Rain, maybe,” he says, and Ryan beams at him.  
  
*  
  
At church, Ryan sends baleful stares towards the Smith pew, and Spencer bites his lip and ducks his head every time his mama sharpens her eyes on him.  
  
It really is tremendously unfair and tragic.  
  
Spencer is sandwiched between his two little sisters when they leave, and he tosses a look over his shoulder at Ryan, pleading for understanding, big blue eyes filled with sadness, and Ryan just sighs. So very tragic.  
  
Ryan watches William slip up and hook his arm through Spencer’s and a sliver of envy slices through Ryan. William is so _easy_ , and he’s three times the bad influence Ryan is, and yet William’s the one who gets the pleasure of his company.  
  
Gerard cups the back of Ryan’s neck and urges him out into the aisle, greeting the minister and then Frank and Patrick and Pete, and Ryan just wants to go home. He wants to go home and lock himself in his room and cry or something. He’s still that upset.  
  
And then William – oh, he could _kiss_ William, really – captures Ryan’s hand as they step out of the church and pulls him away and shoves him around the side of the building before turning to lean casually against the corner, one leg hooked over the other. He whistles nonchalantly. Ryan thinks maybe the whistling is overdoing it somewhat, but he isn’t going to complain.  
  
He isn’t going to complain, of course, because _Spencer_ is there, fingers threaded together and feet shuffling, hair sweeping over his forehead and over his eyes a bit as he tilts his head to smile.  
  
Ryan rushes to give him a hug and Spencer laughs, a little strained, and says, “This is so _unfair_.”  
  
“It is, it totally is,” Ryan agrees, nodding, and then he hugs Spencer tighter.  
  
*  
  
The night Spencer shows up at Green Gables, frantic, no one is home but Ryan. Ryan hasn’t seen Spencer since the week before, Sunday, and he’s instantly happy to find him at the door, except Spencer’s in a _panic_ , and Ryan immediately knows something is horribly wrong. Spencer’s _never_ in a panic.  
  
“What?” Ryan asks, “What’s happened?” and Spencer stumbles over a flood of words, and Ryan parses out, “Sister,” and, “can’t breathe,” and Ryan has his coat on before Spencer even asks for Ryan’s help.  
  
Ryan’s dealt with colic before, at the orphanage. He’s had to take care of little ones, even though the snot was bothersome and kids were generally too sticky-fingered for him, and this is Spencer’s _sister_ , anyway, and anything that’s dear to Spencer is automatically dear to Ryan. That’s just the way it worked.  
  
He grabs a bottle of ipecac and steams up some water and croons to Charlotte as she coughs up what’s lodged in her throat, and it’s all very disgusting, honestly, but Ryan has saved the day.  
  
Spencer is crying. Spencer _never_ cries. Ryan would be upset with Charlotte for upsetting her brother, except he isn’t unreasonable, and Charlotte is pretty much wailing her own displeasure all over the warm Smith kitchen.  
  
When the Smiths come home, Charlotte is asleep by the hearth, wrapped up in a blanket, and Spencer and Ryan are clutching hands and leaning exhaustedly into each other and Mrs. Smith just stares at them for a moment before asking briskly, “What’s going on here?”  
  
Spencer throws himself at his mama – which makes Ryan’s heart clench at the loveliness of the gesture, and also feel a bit slighted that Spencer’s abandoned his side – and says, “Charlotte almost died, but Ryan knew exactly what to do,” and Ryan watches as Mrs. Smith’s face goes completely white.  
  
“She’s all right now,” Ryan hastily says. “She’s sleeping.” He stands up awkwardly and starts inching towards the door. “I’ll just. See myself out.”  
  
“Hold it right there, young man,” Mr. Smith says, and then Mrs. Smith is in front of him, gathering him up in a hug and smushing him sort of unpleasantly against her breasts, but he goes with it.  
  
She whispers, “Oh, thank you,” and, “My baby girl,” and Ryan is totally embarrassed. Spencer is grinning at him, though, that wonderful Spencer grin that he’s missed so much.  
  
Mrs. Smith steps back and gives Ryan a stern look, even though her eyes are still shining. “You’ll be by for tea tomorrow,” she says, and Spencer is nodding vigorously over her shoulder and still grinning and Ryan thinks everything will be alright again.  
  
*  
  
Mikey forever after calls it The Ballad of Spencer and Ryan, since Ryan likes to retell the story of their tragic separation with elaborate and often flowery exaggeration.  
  
It’s pretty funny, actually. Gerard always has to pinch him to stop him from laughing outright.  
  
Mikey’s pretty sure life will never, ever be dull with Ryan around.

 

****

  
Gerard brings home little notebooks for Ryan whenever he can. Ryan fills them up _so fast_ , and he’s always ready for a new one, and something warm settles around Gerard’s heart when Ryan lights up at the gifts. Mikey rolls his eyes at this, but Gerard knows he’s been saving up to buy Ryan a new ink and pen set.  
  
It’s not surprising when Ryan announces he’s finished a story – a masterpiece, perhaps, would not be too strong a description. He’s very pleased with it. A love story to surpass all love stories before it, filled with passion and death and a breathlessly happy ending.  
  
He lets Spencer read it first, because Spencer, he thinks, will appreciate it the most.  
  
Spencer thinks it’s really grand, except he’s not sure if Ryan’s serious about it being a _love_ story, because it sort of reads like a parody. Either way, though, he thinks Ryan ought to show it off.  
  
Ryan is sort of ridiculously protective of it, hugging the manuscript to his chest, but Spencer manages to sneak off with it in the pretense of reading it over again, and copies it all down on a nice, new, clean piece of paper.  
  
A baking powder company is running a contest and Spencer is sure Ryan can win it _easily_ with his story, so he changes a word here and there and then sends it off, smugly satisfied.  
  
*  
  
Patrick is the town Post Master, and he wears this little post master hat that Pete thinks is adorable, and Pete hangs around the Post Office counter everyday at noon, spreading out Patrick’s lunch for him.  
  
Pete and Patrick’s love affair is legendary in the way that Pete retells the story of their courtship to anyone who’ll listen, and each story is different. He’s regaling the Simpson sisters about the time he saved Patrick from a giant poisonous lizard – “It was a newt, Pete,” Patrick interjects, sighing, although he doesn’t know why he bothers – and how Patrick fainted dead away into his arms – “It surprised me, and I slipped on a mossy rock!” – and the Simpson sisters are giggling behind their hands and staring up at Pete with huge, adoring eyes, and Patrick would probably be upset and jealous about that except Pete’s waxing poetic about _him_ , so there’s not much he can complain about, unless you count Pete’s stunning ability to strip Patrick of all his manly trappings, and if anyone wears the skirt in their relationship, it’s _Pete_ , but anyway. Pete’s telling tales to Ashlee and Jess when Ryan comes in with Spencer to pick up the mail for Gerard.  
  
Patrick’s got a package for Ryan.  
  
“I’m not expecting anything,” Ryan says, puzzled, and Spencer, after darting a glance at the label, looks suspiciously amused.  
  
“Open it,” Spencer coaxes, and Pete leaves off right after he claims to the girls that he revived Patrick with, “sweet kisses,” to echo excitedly, “Yeah, Ross, open it and let’s see.”  
  
Ryan shoots him a look, but it’s Pete, and Ryan sort of looks up to Pete, so he tears open the brown paper and stares at. He’s not sure what he’s staring at, actually. “It’s.” He frowns.  
  
“It’s your story,” Spencer says, grinning. “It only had to be edited a tiny bit, and William helped and, well. You won!”  
  
“You wrote a story?” Pete asks, and he sounds a little putout, like he couldn’t believe Ryan hadn’t already shown it to him.  
  
“I wrote.” Ryan trails off, looking from his story – it _is_ his story, he sees that now, only. Only it’s been changed a bit, like Spencer said, and it’s won—  
  
“You won the contest,” Spencer repeats happily, “that’s wonderful, Ryan,” and Ryan gives him a pained smile, because he sees that Spencer’s heart was in the right place, but he just can’t believe. Well. He feels sullied, somehow. This wasn’t meant to be a silly piece for an _advert_.  
  
This was his grand work of _art_ , something he toiled so hard over, and now it’s linked to a crummy line of baking powder.  
  
He tries his best to accept congratulations as gracefully as possible, and then he slinks home with the rest of the mail, tears forming at the corners of his eyes as he closes the front door behind him.  
  
Gerard and Mikey find him sitting on the hall floor, face buried in his hands, and they pet him and coax him up into the kitchen and Gerard makes him tea and the whole story comes spilling out. Gerard pats his back and hugs him and makes understanding noises, but Mikey’s face gets tight.  
  
Mikey can’t believe Ryan could be so _stupid_.  
  
Ryan doesn’t realize until later that Mikey is mad at him. Mikey pokes him in the chest and snaps, “Where do you get off, saying that?” and Ryan is confused until Mikey goes on and says, low and controlled, “Where do you think our money comes from, huh? How do you think we put food on the table? Gerard’s an _artist_ , Ryan, and he draws very nice pieces of work for advertising companies, and you just practically panned his entire existence.”  
  
Ryan is horrified. He hadn’t meant it like that! He hadn’t seen it that way, and he loves Gerard and thinks he’s _amazing_ , and he would never ever want to hurt him!  
  
It’s really hard to offend Gerard. Once he decides he loves someone, he figures they wouldn’t ever say or do anything _deliberately_ hurtful. He knows Ryan didn’t mean to be unkind.  
  
He accepts Ryan’s heartfelt apology with a smile and folds him up in a big hug. “It’s all right,” he says softly, close to Ryan’s ear – he’s gotten so tall and grown! – “I want more for you, anyway.”  
  
“But that’s not. You’re not,” Ryan fumbles with his words, and Gerard pulls back and cages Ryan’s head in his hands.  
  
“I know,” Gerard says. He does.  
  
Later, Mikey chastises Gerard for being so easy on Ryan, but Gerard just shakes his head.  
  
“He’s got his dreams, Mikey. I’m not going to take them away.”  
  
*  
  
Ryan, Spencer, William and Brendon are some of Frank’s brightest students, and he gets a little sad when he thinks of them leaving at the end of the year. There isn’t much more he can teach them, but he gets them ready for their entrance exams at the teachers college – and he can’t imagine William teaching, really, but William seems so determined to do it! It’s not that he’s not smart enough; he’s just so mischievous and _bad_. Bad in that way that’s totally endearing. He’ll smile so wide and bat his eyelashes and meanwhile he’s stuffed five frogs into Frank’s bottom desk drawer over lunch.  
  
The younger students adore him, though, so Frank’ll give him that. He’ll certainly have a faithful following wherever he ends up.  
  
Frank sighs, pulling out a cigarette and sitting on the outside steps of his little schoolhouse. It’s nestled in the woods and it’s been there for longer than he can remember – he was schooled there himself – and it’s possibly his most favorite place in the world. He can hear the kids laughing through the trees as they make their way home.  
  
Jon steps out from around the back of the building with his bike, leans it against the stoop and then sits down next to Frank.  
  
Frank smiles at him. “What’s up, Jon?” he asks, because Jon looks like he has something on his mind.  
  
Jon shrugs, ducks his head a little and scratches the back of his neck. Jon’s grown up handsome, and he’s smart with just about everything, but he won’t be going to college. He’s got his family farm to help work, and that was never in the cards. Finally, he says, “I’m thinking about asking Spencer to marry me.”  
  
That doesn’t surprise Frank at all. The two of them have been courting since they were little kids. It’s sweet. “That’s fine,” Frank says, bumping Jon’s shoulder with his own, grinning widely. “More than fine, even.”  
  
Jon’s cheeks go pink as he smiles back. “Think he’ll say yes?”  
  
“Are you kidding me?” Frank laughs, shakes his head. “You get him a ring?”  
  
“My great grandfather’s,” he says proudly, and Frank’s so happy for him he gives him a tight hug. Jon adds, “Don’t say anything to anyone yet, all right?” chin hooked over Frank’s shoulder.  
  
Franks says, “That’s your news to tell, Jon,” and thinks about Gerard.  
  
He thinks about his little schoolhouse and how he’d been content with his life, with his kids and his small, two-roomed home and his hound dog, Bear, until old Miss Helena had up and died and Gerard Way had moved into town, with his kind eyes and slow grin and his friendly hugs, completely oblivious to the way Frank stares wistfully at him.  
  
Frank says, thoughtful slow, “Think I’m gonna ask Gerard to marry me, too.”  
  
Jon laughs. “About time, teach. About time.”  
  
*  
  
Ryan and Spencer very nearly got into a fight over the story and the advert, but they _do_ get into a fight over Jon.  
  
They don’t talk for two whole days afterwards, after Ryan spots Jon’s ring on Spencer’s finger. He dismisses the quiet glow of happiness on Spencer’s face, and he says sharp, angry things about Jon.  
  
Strangely, it’s Brendon who brings Ryan around.  
  
“You,” Brendon says, swinging up onto the Way’s front porch where Ryan is brooding. He’s left his horse, Daisy May, to nuzzle noses with the Way cow – Frank actually ended up teaching Gerard how to milk her – and he’s got his Sunday best on, and if Ryan didn’t know better, he’d think Brendon was out courting.  
  
”What?” Ryan snaps, because he’s _not in the mood_.  
  
Brendon settles down into the wicker loveseat next to Ryan and stretches an arm along the back, leaning into Ryan’s side. “You’re afraid you’ll lose Spencer if he marries Jon,” Brendon says, and yes.  
  
Yes, that’s exactly what Ryan is afraid of.  
  
No matter what Spencer’s accused him of, Ryan doesn’t dislike Jon anymore. Jon’s hard to hate, and the petty remarks about his character are more habit than anything else. Jon seems to know this, even if Spencer doesn’t, and never gets upset with Ryan. But if Spencer marries Jon, he won’t be at college with Ryan, and that’s terrifying.  
  
“You’re not going to be alone,” Brendon says, expression strangely serious. “You’ll have me and William.” He frowns. “Although it’s arguable that William’s good company.”  
  
Ryan harrumphs, but his mouth twitches. Brendon has a point. College would be dead dull without William.  
  
Brendon squeezes his wrist. “Spencer loves you,” he says simply, “but Jon’s his everything.”  
  
Ryan likes to think he has a romantic soul. He can’t fight true love.  
  
He visits Spencer the next day, early in the morning, just as the sun is peaking out overtop the trees. Mr. Smith lets him in with a raised eyebrow, and Ryan sneaks quietly down the hall and into Spencer’s bedroom. Spencer’s still asleep, covers pulled up over his head, and Ryan slips in next to him, curling against his back, wrapping an arm around Spencer’s middle. He feels the exact moment Spencer wakes up, the slight hitch in his breath, and Ryan murmurs, “I’m going to miss you,” into the nape of Spencer’s neck.  
  
“I’ll be right here,” Spencer whispers, voice a sleepy rasp. “I’ll always be here.”  
  
“It won’t be the same,” Ryan says, but he’s come to terms with it – sort of – so his tone doesn’t have any wheedling in it.  
  
“Nothing ever stays the same, Ryan,” Spencer says. He links their fingers together over his stomach. “If it did, life would be awfully boring.”  
  
*  
  
Gerard sits down next to Mikey on the front porch, hands on his knees. “Frank asked me to marry him,” Gerard says, and Mikey freezes.  
  
He coughs into his fist, tries to dislodge the knot caught up in his chest. “Okay,” he manages.  
  
Gerard nods. “I’m thinking about saying yes.”  
  
Mikey boggles at him. “You’re. Gerard, you didn’t say yes?” Mikey loves his brother and wants more than anything for things to stay the same, but he knows that’s impossible and he knows Frank makes Gerard happy. If Mikey can’t have time stand still – if he can’t have the world slow to a crawl, stop on a lazy summer moment, sun stripping hot orange across the horizon, Ryan slumped down smiling on that loveseat he so favors, Gerard leaning against the rail, grinning wide, well. If he can’t have that forever, he wants Gerard to have Frank, and he wants Ryan to have his dreams, and that’ll be good enough to live on.  
  
“I told him I’d think about it,” Gerard says. He’s looking hard at Mikey.  
  
Mikey purses his lips, gets up and pulls Gerard to his feet. “Say yes, you idiot,” Mikey snaps. “Say yes before he changes his mind. God almighty,” he murmurs almost to himself, shoving Gerard down the stoop, “sometimes I swear I’m the only one with any sense around here.”  
  
Gerard grins over his shoulder at him, then twists around and tugs Mikey into a hug. “Thank you,” he says.  
  
Mikey hugs him back. Tears are definitely not welling, no sir. “Go on,” he says, and then he watches Gerard turn the corner of the house, off back towards the barn to hitch up the horse and wagon. He’s got music in his step.

 

****

  
Ryan is homesick like crazy the first few months at college. William makes it easier. Even Brendon helps, showing up fairly regularly at the little house Ryan shares with William and Gabe and Greta.  
  
Gabe is tall and thin and has a horrible sense of humor. He wears dark suits with purple blouses and shiny shoes and he’s more trouble even than William.  
  
Greta is all curves and gives Ryan these wonderful hugs that strangely remind him of Gerard, and sometimes that’s good, and sometimes it makes Ryan curl up on his bed with the lights dimmed.  
  
Brendon comes around nearly every evening and sits with Ryan and William and sometimes Greta – Greta thinks Brendon is adorably sweet and she fusses over him – and occasionally Gabe, but Gabe is a man-about-town and is almost always out with a crowd. Which is just as well, because the only thing worse than having Gabe and William in the same room is having Gabe, William and _Brendon_ all carrying on together.  
  
Ryan actually really enjoys Brendon’s company now. He can still be highly annoying and hyper, but he’s so _familiar_ , and therefore so dear. They go out for ice cream, and Brendon takes up all this extra space – you wouldn’t think that, to look at him, because he hasn’t grown very much over the years – and he hooks their arms together and he makes Ryan laugh and, really, without Spencer there, Brendon is rapidly becoming Ryan’s closest friend. Not confidant, though, because Ryan could never tell everything to Brendon the way he tells Spencer. He trusts Spencer with his whole life, but Brendon’s kind of a spaz.  
  
Ryan meets Keltie in one of his classes. She’s tiny and blonde and lovely and she makes Ryan’s heart race and he’s pretty sure he’s in love with her. He tells as much to William, sprawled across his bed, and William frowns down at him.  
  
“What about Brendon?” he asks, and Ryan furrows his brow in confusion.  
  
“What about him?”  
  
“Ryan, you.” William sits down next to Ryan and pats his hand. “Ryan, you _can’t_ not know he’s in love with you.”  
  
Ryan blinks. “Huh?”  
  
“Brendon’s in love with you! He’s been in love with you for _forever_.”  
  
“He has not,” Ryan protests, because he’s sure he would have noticed that.  
  
“You cuddle on the sofa!” William sounds pissed, and Ryan has actually never seen William pissed before.  
  
And they _do_ cuddle, but it’s more like Brendon curls up into his side and nuzzles in until Ryan obligingly wraps an arm around him, and maybe pets or scratches the back of his neck while they read a while by lamplight, but.  
  
“I can’t.” Ryan presses a hand over his mouth. Oh, this is _horrible_. Brendon is. Brendon is so special, but Ryan is in love with Keltie! “I didn’t mean,” Ryan whispers. “William, what am I going to do?”  
  
“Talk to Brendon,” William says, nodding sagely.  
  
William, of course, thinks Ryan is making a terrible mistake, because Brendon is his perfect match in every way, and he worships Ryan, always has, and they were meant for each other and everything, but he isn’t going to push. He wouldn’t have said anything at all about it, but he can see the whole thing ending in a huge mess, and William likes messes, he honestly does, but he’s not like Gabe. He doesn’t like _hurtful_ messes, and he doesn’t think having Brendon’s heart break is funny, and he just hopes Ryan is gentle with him.  
  
*  
  
Spencer sends letters constantly about all that is going on at home, and how the wedding plans are coming along and he says how much he misses Ryan and wishes he were there and how he wishes Ryan wasn’t so far away, but that he’s sure he’s having grand adventures without him. Jon always tacks on a line or two at the bottom, a hello and wish-you-well, and Ryan can picture Jon’s handsome face and pleasant smile.  
  
Ryan writes Spencer about his classes and the gang – William and Gabe and Greta and Brendon, and Keltie now, and Nicky and Tyson, Brendon’s housemates – and he writes about how perfect Keltie is, how refined and darling, and he tells Spencer nearly everything, but he doesn’t tell him about that night, when he sat next to Brendon and told him about Keltie, and how he said, “We’re friends, right?” in a completely cowardly move – William doesn’t know about it, either, because Ryan’s certain he’d be beyond upset at how Ryan addressed the whole Brendon-in-love-with-him issue – and how Brendon’s face had faltered for the barest second, pale skin and deep, dark eyes, before he nodded and smiled so hard, and if the smile didn’t quite spread past his mouth, well, Ryan never mentioned it.  
  
*  
  
Even though Gerard told Frank yes – and Frank will remember that moment forever, when Gerard showed up at his door and took his face in his hands and said, “Yes, Frank, yes, I’ll marry you,” after Frank had been quaking with nerves for nearly an hour – he refuses to marry him right away. It’s Ryan’s first year away from home, and Gerard doesn’t want to leave Mikey alone, doesn’t want it to seem like they’re all abandoning him at once.  
  
Mikey’s thankful for this, he is, but there are times he feels like an intruder in his own house, stumbling on Frank and Gerard and secret whispers in the parlor, on the porch swing, out back under the old oak. Sometimes he thinks it would be easier if Gerard just moved on.  
  
Mikey’s taken to visiting Andy. Andy has weird views on the world. He sits on his front porch and smokes and taps out rhythms with his thick-soled boots. He lives by himself, although Pete says he had someone, once upon a time, and he never quite got over losing him. Pete and Patrick dine with him now and then, and Mikey always thought Andy would be crotchety and bitter, from what everyone says about him – and Mikey’s lived there for years now, years and years, but he’s never actually held a full conversation with Andy. Gerard has, but Gerard is much friendlier than Mikey has ever been – but Andy’s really just quiet, until he isn’t; holds in his words until they spill out in non sequiturs, and that sort of thing’s not entirely unheard of from Mikey, either, so it doesn’t seem strange.  
  
Andy talks about children having no respect for adults anymore, nor for private property – Andy’s farm has a pond, perfect for swimming, and the kids sneak into it as often as possible. From all the time they’ve spent together lately, though, Mikey suspects Andy just likes to complain about it, because he’s never witnessed Andy running any of the kids off.  
  
Mikey feels comfortable around Andy, like they’re old friends. They smoke their pipes and watch sunsets in silence, and Mikey forgets about being alone.  
  
*  
  
Spencer and Jon get married on a softly bright day in late April. The ceremony is lovely and intimate and Ryan swells with pride when he sees Spencer standing before the minister in his beige linen suit, shirt buttoned all the way up to his throat, hair tucked behind his ears and cheeks so pink he looks like Patrick when he’s been out in the sun too long.  
  
Afterwards, Ryan hugs Jon and tells him how handsome they both look, and how he better take good care of Spencer or he’ll have Ryan to answer to.  
  
“I will love him like he’s my own,” Jon says, and Ryan eyes him askance, like Jon might be mocking this completely serious subject matter, but although his eyes are sparkling, Ryan senses he’s being nothing but truthful.  
  
Jon has always liked Ryan. He thinks he’s a little eccentric and a little high strung, but he has nothing but the best of intentions, and he loves Spencer and Spencer loves him, so obviously he’s a good guy.  
  
Spencer slips over and snuggles into Jon’s side and Ryan leans in for a quick peck and a squeeze of his hand. “Brendon’s looking for you,” Spencer says, and Ryan’s eyes go wide.  
  
“Oh no,” Ryan says in dismay. “I’m wearing _white_.” Brendon is notorious for spilling stuff on Ryan. Spencer would think it was on purpose if he wasn’t so genuinely apologetic afterwards, but Ryan is adamant that Brendon likes to keep close to Ryan specifically to ruin all his days.  
  
As Ryan dashes off to find a place to hide, Jon catches the ends of Spencer’s fingers and tugs him out behind Spencer’s mother’s prize rose bushes – they’re huge, leaves glossy, and the fragrance fills the whole back garden; Spencer has a bright organdy bloom from one tucked into the knot of his tie. Spencer beams at him, and Jon has never seen him so happy, and just the thought that Spencer is happy because of _him_ , because of their budding life together, is the best feeling in the world. He slips an arm around Spencer’s waist and pulls him close and fits his mouth over his, and Spencer holds onto the lapels of his jacket and opens up underneath him.  
  
Jon hears William call for him, then he hears a startled, “Oh!” followed by bubbling laughter that fades as William drifts away.  
  
Spencer says, “We should go back,” against his lips.  
  
“Later,” Jon says, pressing their foreheads together. He feels lightheaded with joy. “You are everything I’ve ever wanted, Spencer.”  
  
Spencer’s breath catches and his lips are red and kiss-swollen and he looks beautiful and he’s _his_. Jon still can’t wrap his mind around that, not completely.  
  
“When can we leave?” Spencer asks in a quiet rush, and Jon laughs.  
  
“Soon,” he promises. “Soon.”  
  
*  
  
Brendon corners Ryan out in front of the house, down by the patch of orange day lilies. “Oh, Ryan Ross,” he says, hands in his pockets and grinning madly. “Where’s Keltie?”  
  
Ryan is at least thankful he isn’t holding a cup of punch. “She couldn’t come. Her mother’s ill.” He’s not sure why he tacks that explanation on the end, since surely it isn’t any of Brendon’s business, but Brendon’s got his mischievous smile on, the one he’d always wear around Jon when they were stirring up trouble in years past.  
  
Brendon steps closer, says, “You look nice.”  
  
“Thank you.” Ryan straightens up to his full height. Brendon is very close now, and Ryan’s belly flips and he clasps his hands in front of his chest in an effort to distance himself without actually backing away. Brendon would surely only take retreat as a challenge.  
  
Brendon reaches out and slips his hand over Ryan’s arm, just under his elbow, smoothes his fingers along the fabric. “Nice,” he murmurs, and when Ryan sways towards him – totally involuntarily! – Brendon’s mouth softens and he shifts on his feet and brushes his lips along Ryan’s jaw.  
  
Ryan is stunned. His heart is pounding, and he can feel it in his throat. He’s off-balance, and he grabs for Brendon’s wrists, holding tight.  
  
Brendon’s eyes are warm. “Ryan, I—”  
  
“Brendon. Brendon,” Ryan says, leaning away, desperate. “Brendon, I’m asking Keltie to marry me.”  
  
*  
  
Brendon stops coming around to the little house Ryan shares with William, Gabe and Greta, and Ryan does not care. He doesn’t. Or he cares in the way that Brendon is – was, is, definitely is - his friend, and now he’s avoiding him and avoiding William by default, and Ryan knows that he handled the whole situation badly, but there was nothing else to do!  
  
William gives him suspicious looks, but he doesn’t say anything.  
  
Spencer tries to ask him about it in letters, which means that Brendon’s talked to Jon, and Ryan isn’t sure if he’s upset about that or not. He tells Spencer that it’s all very _tragic_ , but he can’t _make_ himself feel something he doesn’t, and that Brendon is much better off without him, anyhow.  
  
In the two months left of his first year at college, Ryan hardly sees Brendon at all, just in passing. He misses him terribly, feels like a piece of him is missing, and he wishes they were still close. But Brendon has all the wrong ideas about him, and so maybe it’s better this way.  
  
*  
  
Frank and Gerard’s wedding is huge and festive, mid-summer, and everyone from at least three counties, it seems, are packed into the town square. Mikey watches the whole thing dispassionately from Gerard’s side, but only because he knows he’ll tear up if he cracks any sort of smile, and Ryan’s already crying enough for the both of them.  
  
They exchange their vows in near-whispers, heads bent together, and the entire town cheers. Frank looks like he’s about to burst with happiness and pride.  
  
Ryan is so happy for Gerard and Frank! He’s swiping at his cheeks and sniffling and Spencer has an arm around his waist and it feels so good to be home.  
  
Married life seems to make Spencer glow, and he looks exactly how he always looks to Ryan – perfect – but he looks _more_. Like Jon is the part that makes him whole. Ryan is only slightly jealous, and not in the way he expected to be. He thought he’d be jealous that Jon has given Spencer something that Ryan never could, but instead he finds himself wistfully yearning for what Jon and Spencer have together, the adoration and love.  
  
He never asked Keltie to marry him. It just hadn’t seemed right, whenever he tried. She’s perfect for him, but he wants that _more_ , that spark that Spencer has with Jon.  
  
Ryan thinks maybe he’s doomed to be alone, to forever roam the earth without his one true love.  
  
When Brendon approaches him, it’s the first time Ryan has been near him in months. Ryan is uncharacteristically jittery, almost nervous, and he flashes a quick smile.  
  
Brendon returns it, polite, with a nod of his head, and asks, “How are you?” in a subdued voice, tinged with affection.  
  
Ryan pinks, because he still blames himself for their falling out, and he can’t understand why Brendon’s being so nice to him, but he’s thankful for it. “Okay,” he says. “You?”  
  
“Good.” His eyes crinkle at the corners when he grins. “Can’t complain.”  
  
It’s small talk and it’s awkward and nothing has ever been awkward between them before. Ryan never realized how much he depended on Brendon’s complete disregard of personal boundaries and society rules to put him at ease. “Good,” Ryan echoes.  
  
“How’s Keltie?” Brendon asks, and Ryan wants to tell him that he’s broken it off, wants to say it didn’t quite work out for them, but he doesn’t. It seems like too much, too many words.  
  
So he says, “Fine,” instead, and he doesn’t know if he imagines the passing shadow of sadness across Brendon’s face or not. He doesn’t know, because the next second Brendon is grinning again, and Ryan sees it in his eyes, sees it clearly, and Ryan lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, because he thinks maybe they’re going to be okay, the two of them, after all.

 

****

  
Gerard moves out to Frank’s. They debate moving Frank in with Gerard and Mikey, but Mikey puts his foot down, because as much as he loves the two of them, it’s a little too much, at least right then. Gerard thinks, after a little while, Mikey will be more amenable to making a home together, the three of them, so he agrees to share Frank’s tiny house for the time being.  
  
Ryan starts his second year of college, renting the same little cottage as the year before, and William has been learning to cook and nearly burns the place down at least once a week. Nick and Tyson stop by all the time, even though Brendon is still keeping his distance, and Greta acquires a gentleman caller, a Mr. Toro, who is older and has amazingly curly hair and treats her like a lady.  
  
Gabe is still an ass, but he does two things that forever endear him to Ryan.  
  
One, he somehow gets Brendon to come around again. It’s different, of course, because things can never stay the same, and they sit on opposite couches and hardly touch, but their conversation volleys are easier than they have been, the others in the room acting as unwitting buffers, and their time together becomes precious to Ryan, something to look forward to, something he remembers with a smile.  
  
And two, Gabe finds his old story – because Gabe is always rifling through things he shouldn’t be - the one that Ryan can barely look at without shame curling in his stomach.  
  
He says, “This is decent, Ross. Bit overdone, but mainly solid,” and Gabe is a writer himself, so he fancies he knows exactly what he’s talking about. He asks, “You write anything else?” and Ryan can honestly say he hasn’t. Not in a long while. He always felt sick about it, even though Gerard had readily forgiven him.  
  
Gabe, of course, brings this up in front of everyone, and Brendon cocks his head and asks, “Why not, Ryan? Isn’t that what you always wanted to do?”  
  
Ryan doesn’t want to say a word about Gerard, he doesn’t, so he just shrugs. “I’m not that good.”  
  
Brendon laughs. “You’re great,” he says, and his face shows he means it. “I was always trying to catch up to you in school, but your essays trumped mine, every time.” He sounds proud, and Ryan bites his lip.  
  
“So I’m clever with words, it’s nothing.”  
  
“You shouldn’t.” Brendon frowns. “I hate it when put yourself down, Ryan.”  
  
“I’m not,” Ryan says, honestly bewildered. He’s _not_. He’s just more realistic, nowadays.  
  
“Well,” Brendon says matter-of-factly, leaning back in his seat. “I think you could do excellent work, if maybe you just wrote about what you really loved.”  
  
*  
  
Ryan falls into writing again completely by accident, even though he can’t quite shake Brendon’s encouragement, his genuine faith in Ryan, his offhand words of advice.  
  
He’s penning a letter to Spencer about Gabe, and Gabe’s latest entanglement with a bold and fun-loving girl, Vicky – whom Ryan likes, really, and she seems to be an even match for Gabe and his absurd shenanigans – and the letter turns more narrative than anything else, halfway through. Then it turns into a short story, and then a series of stories, The Misadventures of Gabe Saporta, and Gabe is truly amused by it all, says he’ll sign copies for the masses if Ryan ever sends it out for publishing.  
  
They aren’t anything that Ryan is serious about, though. What he wants to do, what he truly wants to write about is his home, the only place he’s ever really belonged.  
  
He wants to write about Pete and Patrick and their legendary love affair. He wants to write about Spencer, his sharp wit and shy smile. He wants to write about Mikey and their Jersey cow, Frank’s years of quiet courting, Gerard’s open, honest face and kind heart. He wants to write about William, his tall, graceful body and his sweet angelic voice, his penchant for pranks and his booming laughter.  
  
There are so many stories he wants to tell, so many lives to flesh out, that he buries himself in words for months and months, throughout the summer and even into the beginning of his third college year.  
  
He tweaks with it for even longer than that; it has to be perfect, because it’s for everyone he loves, for Gerard and Mikey and Spencer and Jon and even Brendon, because Brendon is always so good at pointing out what Ryan’s missing, what’s directly in front of his nose. It has to be _just right_.  
  
He can’t wait to show Spencer. He can’t wait to show _Brendon_ , and that’s an odd thought, really.  
  
He hasn’t seen a lot of Brendon lately. Not like he’s been seeing much of anyone, holed up in his bedroom with his manuscript. William or Greta sneaks in with food for him, bullies him into bed and sleep, makes sure he gets to all his classes. He’s been lost, so focused on his work.  
  
William tells Ryan that Brendon has been seeing someone, a man, Bob, who he met through Greta and her Mr. Toro. Ryan gets a squirmy feeling in his stomach. Brendon apparently hasn’t been around much because he’s. He’s out courting, and that’s different, because Ryan doesn’t remember Brendon courting _anyone_ before, unless he counts himself. Which he doesn’t, not really, since Ryan had no idea at the time that was what he was doing.  
  
But it’s fine. It’s totally fine and _great_ , actually, because Brendon has found someone! He’s finally over Ryan! Ryan is truly happy for him, especially after he meets Bob, after they’re introduced formally.  
  
Brendon and Ryan stumble upon each other at the nearby park, and Brendon is strolling with a blond man, slightly imposing but with kind eyes. Bob Bryar, his full name, is stiff backed and reserved, but he quirks a smile at Brendon’s enthusiasm, and his grip is firm when he shakes Ryan’s hand.  
  
Later, Brendon stops by the house alone, seems antsy and nervous, hands fluttering, and says that Bob has asked him to marry him. He tells Ryan carefully, watching his face, and Ryan says how much he likes Bob, how nice he seems, and Brendon hugs him, tight and fierce and unexpected, since he hasn’t touched Ryan much in years.  
  
Ryan feels an ache behind his eyes, a pressure, but he hugs Brendon back and doesn’t say a word.  
  
*  
  
It’s Christmas when Ryan’s book is finally published, in the very middle of Ryan’s fourth and final year at college.  
  
He’s cozy in the front parlor of Green Gables, Spencer sitting close beside him. Across the room, Frank and Gerard are holding hands, talking quietly, and Andy, Mikey and Jon are playing a round of cards, and the fire is so warm they’ve all unbuttoned the tops of their shirts, ties pulled loose.  
  
Spencer is marveling over a copy of Ryan’s book, the crisp spine, the fresh paper smell, Ryan’s name embossed in neat block letter type. His fingers trail over the title plate, and he bites his lip at the inscription, because it is surely the best thing he’s ever seen. He reads it aloud, everyone absent listeners, Ryan’s dedication to Gerard and Mikey, _the family of my heart_ , to Spencer, _my brother, my soulmate_ , to William, _the steadiest friend I could ever hope for_ , and to Brendon, _with love._  
  
There’s a thick silence, and Gerard sniffs, eyes watery.  
  
And then Andy taps his pipe into his palm and says, “Brendon Urie’s dying,” and Ryan’s heart nearly stops in his chest.  
  
Mikey sends Andy a chastising glance, then says softly, “We didn’t want you to hear it from someone else, Ryan,” because he knows the two of them have a strangely close and complicated relationship.  
  
“He’s. What?” Ryan is sure he didn’t hear that right, couldn’t have, because what they said was impossible.  
  
Spencer grips his arm. “He’s been sick, Ryan,” he says, and the words are _all wrong_. “They’re not expecting him to make it.”  
  
“Not.” Ryan stumbles to his feet, feeling hollowed out, raw. “He can’t be,” he insists. He _can’t_ be.  
  
Ryan presses a palm over his mouth and flees the house, rounds the back towards the barn to hitch their old horse up to the wagon, to go see for himself, to see how _perfectly fine_ Brendon is.  
  
He hears footsteps behind him and then Gerard’s hands are on the worn leather harnesses, quiet, finishing what Ryan’s shaky fingers were fumbling with.  
  
When he’s done, he wraps his arms around Ryan’s waist and tips his forehead onto the back of Ryan’s neck. Ryan takes a deep breath, shudders.  
  
“I love him,” Ryan says, so low it’s barely a whisper, and he wasn’t aware of how true those words were until they spilled out into the sharp and cold winter air. He’s _in love_ with Brendon. It’s in the twist of his heart, the moth wings brushing the insides of his stomach, the bitter taste in his mouth.  
  
Gerard lightly kisses his nape and says, “I know.” He hadn’t, before. Gerard would never claim to be very observant, to know what’s going on in Ryan’s overactive mind, but Ryan had gone so white, so stunned, pain writ so bright in his eyes, that it was so very hard to miss.  
  
Ryan loves Brendon. Gerard thinks maybe he always has.  
  
*  
  
Over at the Urie’s, Ryan is ushered into Brendon’s bedroom, and the air is hot and stale and Ryan is crying. He’s crying, he can’t stop crying, and Brendon’s a pale husk of himself, too small, glazed eyes too big nestled in the sharp bones of his face.  
  
“Brendon,” Ryan says, and he swipes his palms over his cheeks, trying to get himself under control, to be strong, and Brendon’s eyes flutter close, breathing labored. “No, Brendon, god no, please.” He drops to his knees, clutches a dry hand, fingers so thin they seem brittle. “You can’t leave me, you _can’t_.”  
  
Brendon doesn’t answer, barely moves at all, and Ryan slumps forward, rolling his forehead along the edge of the bed.  
  
“You can’t leave me, Brendon,” he gasps, words a sticky mess in between sobs. “Brendon, Brendon, I’m so in love with you.”  
  
*  
  
Ryan’s a little embarrassed, afterwards. He’d pretty much broken down in front of the entire Urie clan, and Ryan’s probably imagining it, but he thinks they look at him differently now.  
  
Brendon barely survives, but he _survives_ , and Ryan is suddenly awkward. Awkward, uncomfortable in his skin, hyperaware, and he wonders if Brendon knows, if Brendon is still marrying Bob, if Brendon. If he _knows_. Ryan almost thinks it would be better if Brendon didn’t, if they could go back to the way things always were between them.  
  
William thinks he’s being stupid. “You’ve already _told him_ ,” he points out.  
  
“While he was unconscious and on the brink of death,” Ryan says, and the thought still hurts, squeezes his chest tight, but Brendon’s _better_ now, thank god. Not completely well, but better, and getting stronger everyday, if Spencer’s letters can be trusted – and of course then can, because it’s _Spencer_.  
  
William shakes his head. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to be Spencer’s best friend for so many years and still be so dumb.”  
  
Ryan’s not exactly sure what William means. “I’m not dumb. I’m just. Cautious.”  
  
“ _Dumb_. Spencer would’ve had Brendon in bed by now,” William says with a cheeky grin, and Ryan blushes hot and resists the urge to protest and fall into William’s trap – Spencer is a _gentleman_ , and would’ve done no such thing.  
  
“Spencer,” William goes on, taunting, “knows what he wants, and ends up with exactly that.”  
  
Ryan sinks down low in his seat, arms crossed over his chest. He tries his best to brood, but William is still grinning at him, and Ryan can never resist William’s grin. “I’ll go visit him,” he capitulates finally, and William leans over and ruffles his hair.  
  
*  
  
When Ryan finally makes it home again, it’s early spring, damp and still slightly chilly. He procrastinates for a day or two, until Mikey’s silent stares drive him nearly insane - they aren’t damning or accusing or even questioning, but they make Ryan squirm inside just the same.  
  
Brendon is outside when Ryan knocks on the Urie’s front door. He’s out back, one of Brendon’s sisters says, pointing the way, and Ryan stuffs his hands in his pockets as he slowly walks around the house.  
  
He stops, just at the edge of the long, sprawling lawn. It isn’t quite a hesitation. He watches as Brendon laughs, hoarse, poised over a dark-haired toddler playing in a pile of dirt, a worn red shawl tucked over his shoulders and upper arms.  
  
Brendon still looks too thin, but there’s color in his cheeks, and his hair is neatly trimmed above his ears. He says, “Your mom’s going to kill me,” but he doesn’t pull the child out of the dirt, just leans down to tug affectionately at tousled pigtails, and then his head comes up at an angle, eyes accidentally catching Ryan’s.  
  
His smile doesn’t fade exactly, doesn’t fall, but Ryan thinks it looks softer, somehow. More intimate.  
  
Ryan walks closer, makes his feet move, prays he doesn’t stumble along the way, and Brendon straightens up completely, tugging the shawl more firmly around him.  
  
“Hi,” he says, and Ryan swallows hard and says back, “Hello.”  
  
“Hi!” the little girl says, tilting her head and grinning a patently Urie grin up at them. She’s got smudges all over her chubby face, her dress surely ruined, legs on either side of a small hole in the lawn, tiny shovel clutched by both hands.  
  
Brendon laughs and says, “My favorite niece, Abby,” with a flourish.  
  
“I’m going to hazard she takes after you,” Ryan says, amused, feeling slightly more at ease.  
  
“Which is why she’s my very favorite.” Brendon nods, and Ryan can’t stop looking at his face, at the fatigue around his eyes, at the genuine joy, though, that is shining out of them.  
  
“How are you?” Ryan asks, because he’s not sure what else to say.  
  
Brendon shrugs. “I’ve been better.”  
  
“Been worse, too,” Ryan says, and his voice is so quiet, the words almost mangled to a stop in his dry throat, that he’s not sure Brendon hears him.  
  
Brendon says, “Yes,” though, watching him in a searching way, like he’s trying to parse all of Ryan’s thoughts, like if he’s just careful enough, he could spot all of Ryan’s secrets, desires, right there on his face.  
  
“Brendon, I. I don’t know if.” Ryan feels stupid, slow, contrary to his mind and heart racing, and Brendon is perhaps the only person he’s never been able to properly articulate himself around, and that makes sense to Ryan now, makes sense in the way that Ryan had never before been thinking straight, thinking _clearly_ , with Brendon so close. He turns his head, stares off towards the clump of lilac bushes, the fence and farmland beyond. “I don’t know what’s between you and Bob,” he ends up saying finally. “I know that you. That you must.” He silently curses his stuttering, but he just can’t make himself say, _I know that you must love him_ , not without breaking his own heart.  
  
“Ryan.” A hand curls over Ryan’s wrist, but he doesn’t turn back, not until Brendon shakes him, says, “Ryan, look at me.”  
  
He’s smiling that same soft smile.  
  
“What?” Ryan asks, and it comes out breathless and Ryan feels a blush start up from his neck.  
  
“It’s always been you,” Brendon says. “It will always be—” His hand slips up, light on his arm, presses into Ryan’s nape. Calloused fingers caress the line of his throat, soft, in direct contrast to his firm, “It will _always be you_.”  
  
Ryan bites his lip, blinks. “Oh.”  
  
Brendon arches his eyebrows, expectant, amused, maybe a little uncertain, and Ryan clambers over another, “Oh,” and, “Yes, yes, god, for me, too,” and then his hands are in Brendon’s hair, cupping the back of his head and Ryan has had very few kisses in his lifetime, and none of them were even remotely like this. None of them were Brendon’s.  
  
“Ryan,” Brendon says, and he’s holding him so tight, like Ryan might disappear or change his mind or something, and Ryan can’t blame him, he can’t.  
  
Ryan murmurs, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” over and over again against Brendon’s mouth.  
  
“Ryan, shut up,” Brendon says, but Ryan can feel his lips curving up into a smile, and it’s possible that Ryan’s crying, just a little, but Brendon thankfully doesn’t mention it. Just catches a few stray drops with a thumb, smoothing the skin of his cheek. “I’m sure you can make it up to me.”  
  
Ryan lets out a wet laugh, not taking offense, and in his head there’s William, waggling his brows suggestively, and Ryan says, “Anything, Brendon. Anything. Forever.”


End file.
